Peace Offering
by Jelsemium
Summary: This is my tag to the Peace Pipe episode.


Peace Offering

A tag to the episode "Peace Pipe"

Disclaimer: The characters are not owned by me, no profit was made and no firemen were injured in the making of this fan fiction.

The equipment bay was empty, making Station 51 feel cold and abandoned. Chester Brian Kelly, Chet to his friends, less printable things to his pigeons, paused in the doorway from the dayroom to the equipment bay and looked around.

He checked his watch. Less than half an hour before A-shift was scheduled to start. Something that would prove to be difficult if C-shift didn't bring the vehicles back.

Chet sighed and asked himself why he had come in so early? It wasn't like _Gage_ would get in this early. Considering how nasty the fog was this morning, he'd be lucky if Gage got in on time for roll call. He'd probably have to try to catch the paramedic alone some time during the shift.

On the other hand, until C-shift returned, A-shift was going to be twiddling its collective thumbs. Chet glanced at his watch and decided that he might as well get changed. He had the locker room all to himself, which gave him the creeps for some reason.

He returned to the kitchen, wondering if there was any coffee available. He paused when he heard somebody moving around. Shaking off the creeps, he re-entered the kitchen to find Capt. Henry Stanley pouring a cup of coffee.

"Morning, Cap!" Chet said cheerfully.

Capt. Stanley started. "Oh, good morning, Kelly," he said. He acted a trifle guilty and Chet wondered why. "Sorry, I took the last cup of coffee, Pal."

Ah, well, that was a good start to the day. Not only would Chet get the first cup from a fresh batch of coffee, the captain would probably feel guilty enough to assign latrine chores to somebody else.

"I'll just start another pot," Capt. Stanley said.

"Thanks, Cap," Chet said sincerely. Nothing better than a boss who didn't think he was above mundane chores.

"Oh, damn."

Chet stiffened. Cap wasn't the type who swore a lot.

"What's wrong?"

"Do you see any coffee, Kelly?" Cap asked as he hunted through the cupboards.

They shouldn't have to hunt for anything in the kitchen. The coffee cans were always kept in one spot. However, on the off-hand chance some boot or sub had misplaced the coffee; Chet went over and started checking cupboards. He was just on the verge of volunteering to run to the store to buy some when the door from the parking lot banged open.

"Morning! Somebody wanna give me a hand?" John Gage muttered around a small, white paper bag that dangled from his mouth.

Chet jumped forward and held the door for him. In addition to the small white bag, Gage had three grocery bags, two in his arms and one clutched in his left hand. Chet grabbed the one in his hand and Gage grunted his thanks as he made it to the table without dropping anything.

"I hope you have coffee in there," Cap said.

"I do, I do!" Gage sang out, spitting the white bag onto the table.

Chet made a note to wipe the table off… with Lysol. Assuming they had any disinfectant.

Gage continued. "Dwyer called me this morning an' cried on my shoulder about how they were running out of coffee and… 'a few other things,'" Gage's tone dripped sarcasm. He pulled three cans of Maxwell House out of the bags. Not ordinary sized cans, either, the industrial sized cans.

"My, you're generous," Capt. Stanley said.

"Dwyer said that the other shifts would buy one each," Gage replied.

Capt. Stanley nodded as he and Chet watched the groceries being unloaded.

"That's a lot of green, leafy stuff for burgers, Gage," Cap said after a while.

"We're not having burgers," Gage replied.

"Hot dogs, then," Chet threw in. He and Capt. Stanley smirked at each other.

"Actually, I'm making tuna casserole for lunch an' Irish stew for dinner."

"FISH?" Capt. Stanley yelped.

"Irish stew?" Chet felt indignation overwhelm his desire to make an apology. "Gage, that crap you serve up is an insult to all Irishmen!"

Gage shot an infuriating grin over his shoulder. "Okay, then, how 'bout mac 'n' cheese for lunch and pork chops for dinner?"

Both Capt. Stanley and Chet let out sighs of relief as it became obvious that Gage was unpacking the ingredients for the second two meals rather than the ones originally mentioned.

Capt. Stanley slapped Gage on the back. "Funny, guy, but you need to be careful about giving your ol' captain heart failure first thing in the morning."

"Aye, Cap! Sorry, Cap," Gage said with a bright smile that didn't really look sorry.

Capt. Stanley just shook his head and grabbed his coffee and headed to his office. He muttered something about paperwork, but Chet noticed that the newspaper was still tucked under his arm.

Gage bustled about, putting things away and starting a fresh pot of coffee. Faced with an actual opportunity to apologize, Chet froze. After Gage put the coffee on, he turned around to face Chet. "Put the ice cream away, would ya?" he was out the door heading for the dorm before Chet could answer.

Chet pulled the ice cream out of the bags, noting the flavors: vanilla, Rocky Road and Neapolitan.

"What? No plain chocolate?" Chet complained when Gage returned, now dressed in uniform.

"They didn't have any," Gage replied.

"Did you complain?"

"What? After they let me in an hour before opening AND let me write a post dated check? Learn to like another flavor, Kelly," Gage said.

They waited in silence until the coffee was ready. Gage poured out to mugs and handed one to Chet before Chet worked up the courage to blurt out…

"What's in there?" he asked, pointing to the white bag on the table.

"Bufferin," Gage replied.

Chet gaped. "We have aspirin, you dummy!" he said.

Gage sighed elaborately. "We have regular aspirin," he said. "This is buffered aspirin. Do you have any idea what the regular stuff can do to your stomach?"

Chet assumed that Gage's paramedic training or one of his friends at Rampart had instructed Gage as to the damage that aspirin could do to a person's stomach. Not wanting to know the gory details this early in the morning, Chet decided to change the subject.

"I want to apologize," he said, much to his own surprise.

Gage leaned against the counter. "For what?" his face lost all expression, which was actually rather scary.

He hemmed and hawed for a few seconds before he managed. "For all the smart mouth remarks I was making about peace pipes an' such," he finally managed.

Gage just raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his coffee.

"Seriously," Chet went on. "You know how we firemen are, always razzing on each other, trying to get under everybody's skin. Lord knows I've heard enough 'dumb mick' jokes to fill an encyclopedia."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Gage said. "I've done my share, too."

"But I think I went over the line and I'm sorry, 'cause, y'know, there…" Chet floundered to a stop.

Gage sighed. "Chet, I've been called worse things."

"But not by me!" Chet looked worriedly across the kitchen.

Gage took another sip, obviously thinking about what Chet had said. "Okay, apology accepted."

Chet blinked. "Just like that?" he asked, wondering if it was really going to be that easy.

Gage shrugged. "Like I said, I've been called worse things…" he held up a hand to indicate that Chet needed to let him finished. "By jerks who meant every word."

"So you're not mad?"

Gage sipped his coffee and waved a hand at Chet. When he finished, he continued. "Besides, there's one thing that separates you from those other foul-mouthed jokers I've worked with. You went out of your way to get your hands a book on anthropology."

Chet blinked and said, "You said it was a stupid book."

Gage grinned. "It _is_ a stupid book, written by a _stupid_ man, but _you_ didn't know that." He gestured to Chet, then to himself. "_You_ were making a sincere effort to understand where I am coming from." He shrugged and sipped at his coffee again. "Once I realized that, then I stopped being mad, so yeah, I accept your apology. Besides, you know you're my absolute favorite…"

Chet grinned and puffed out his chest as he took a swallow of his cooled down coffee. Then he spat the horrible concoction all over the kitchen.

Gage deftly ducked the spray and finished, "…Pigeon."

"You poisoned me!" Chet charged to the sink, stuck his head under the faucet attempted to rinse the burning sensation out of his mouth.

"Just a shot of hot sauce, ya big baby!" Gage said, smirking.

"What? How did you DO that!" he yelped. "I was watching you the whole time! You didn't put anything into my cup!"

Gage grinned and held his cup to his nose. "It ain't too bad if you sip it slow and easy."

Chet gaped at him. "You're drinking that … that …"

"Swill," Gage said smugly.

Chet gazed at him admiringly. "I'll get you for that, Gage."

"I'm shakin' in my boots, Kelly," Gage returned. He went back to the stove and picked up the coffeepot.

"What are you doing?" Chet demanded.

"Dumping this crap out, of course," Gage replied.

"Why? Cap's already had his coffee," Chet said with a grin. "That means that the next pigeon that drinks out of that pot will either be one of the guys who laughed at my Indian jokes…"

"Or one of the guys who drank all the coffee without replacin' it," Gage finished. An evil grin crossed his face. "Good point, Chester, my man." He set the pot back on the burner. They quickly cleaned up the coffee Chet had spat out before settling in their seats.

"Should we refill our cups?" Chet asked.

Gage shook his head. "Nah, have the pigeon give us a top off an' remember, sip it nice and slow."

They plastered half-asleep expressions on their faces as they waited for the next pigeon.

The End


End file.
